


Deadly Nightshade

by Darsynia



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Creepy, Gen, Secret Admirer, Triple Drabble
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-07-11
Updated: 2006-07-11
Packaged: 2017-10-03 16:19:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Darsynia/pseuds/Darsynia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rupert has a secret admirer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Deadly Nightshade

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Challenge 16: Secret Admirer at [ashthedrabble](http://community.livejournal.com/ashthedrabble)

He knew something was wrong the moment he crossed into the courtyard—none of the women he knew had a habit of humming, particularly not past midnight on a night with no moon. His senses were therefore on high alert during the walk to his door; the hair on the back of his neck prickled uncomfortably as though he were being watched, but Rupert refused to give any indication that he was unnerved.

This resolve failed him when he saw the gift that had been left for him on the stoop.

Nightshade and roses, tied together with a lock of a woman's hair... not a particularly morbid gift unless one's work tended to involve contact with vampires and demons and all manner of dark creatures, of course. The tension he felt nearly lifted as the macabre humor of the situation struck him—he had absolutely no intention of touching the thing, but would he be putting his life in danger if he kicked it aside? To put off such a decision, Giles crouched at the doorstep to examine the odd bouquet more closely.

"Is there something wrong with my present?" a chillingly familiar voice spoke from the shadows. It took all Rupert's self-discipline not to leap to his feet—Drusilla was unpredictable, but even she would know the meaning of a desperate fumbling for keys and a dash for the front door. "Have the worms gotten to it already?" she was saying now, moving slowly toward him with a curious look on her face, more nightshade in her flowing hair. "I waited until the moon sang to place it for you."

"There is no moon tonight, Drusilla," he said, trying to impart a sense of calm as well as a warning in his tone.

"_You_ are the moon," came the unexpected, unwelcome reply.


End file.
